Foreplay
by TresMaxwell
Summary: Steve/Tony - "Want to know the best thing about dating a superhero? I mean, really, the absolute best thing? It's that battle is fucking foreplay." Tony's thoughts on sex as a superhero. Just a stream of consciousness drabble. Rated mostly for language and sex talk.


Want to know the best thing about dating a superhero? I mean, really, the absolute best thing? It's not the perfect body or the endless stamina (though both of those apply to the best thing). No, it's that battle is fucking foreplay.

Let me explain.

When a superhero dates someone normal, Pepper for example, a death-defying fight does not inspire intimacy. It just doesn't. Whenever I got home after a bad fight, it was all tears and hugs and 'oh my god, never again'. Don't get me wrong, I always appreciated that. It meant someone cared, that someone was worrying about me while I was putting my life on the line.

After doing this a while, I got to a point that a good fight got my blood pumping in entirely different ways. I'd get home and I'd be so damn hard that I couldn't get out of my suit fast enough to avoid the ache. Maybe that was why things didn't work out with Pep. She never got it, looked at me like the idea of sex was entirely inappropriate when I had to be pried out of my armor with a crowbar.

I don't know, but it's hardly the point here.

I thought it was one of those weird things I'd add to my long list of sexual deviancies and forget about. I have an embarrassing number of kinks, so getting turned on by a battle was the least of my worries. Seriously, if I went into my egregiously long list, you'd probably run for the hills before I got through the top ten.

Thing is, I figured out real quick that I wasn't alone in that particular kink. And of all people to share it with, it had to be the Star Spangled Man with a Plan. What are the odds? Actually, I could tell you the odds, but they'd take up half a page so I won't. Still, his old-fashioned views aside, the man has a feral streak a mile wide and a violent close call sends him crashing back into the Stone Age.

I was not at all prepared the first time it happened. We'd come in bloody, Clint and Thor and I grinning like fools because we were alive and that was a miracle considering the battle we'd had. I'd only just gotten out of my armor when Steve shouldered me like a game animal and took me upstairs.

No joke.

Picked me up like I was a sack of potatoes. I want to say that he threw me on the bed and tore my clothes off, but let's face it, it's Steve we're talking about here. Even wild with lust, he has his manners. Or, at least… some of them.

He set me down in his room, but only because I threatened him with bodily harm if he carried me any farther and my room's on the top floor. Then his hands were everywhere and I was not about to complain. He hesitated, tried to explain, but my hand down the front of his uniform shut him up.

Like any good man from the era of proper behavior, he took me on a date after he fucked me into the mattress. We ended up at a diner and it was awkward, but it didn't stop us from doing it again. And again. Not just the sex, but the dating. Eventually, we found our stride, relaxed with each other.

Until the next fight. Then we battled and went home and had sex so rough I've had to replace my bed three times in the last five months. It's probably taking years off my life, but I figure being an Avenger does that anyway, so why not have fun with it. Post battle sex is like revenge sex without the prerequisite anger. It's got all the desperation and the shoving and impatience of revenge sex. Don't ask me why that's hot until you've had two-hundred and forty pounds of super soldier crowd you against a wall because he's too eager to get into you to go the rest of the way to the bed.

Not that it'll happen to anyone but me because Rogers is insanely loyal, so you'll just have to picture it. Blue eyes blown so wide by lust they look black, body flush and still corded up from the mission, whispering that he's going to fuck you into next week.

Yeah. Hot. No justification required.

So, as weird as it is that I'm dating a man with no sense of style and archaic attitudes, there's still something perfect about it. Because we can go into battle together, watch each other's backs, fuck off the stress afterward, and be okay again. There are no tears, no panic. No need to explain why I do what I do because he knows. He knows what it's like to hear the call of war and get a thrill of excitement.


End file.
